


Third Wheel or 20 Dates

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Ship Clint With Everyone [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, Get Together, M/M, Minor Bruce Banner/Betty Ross, Minor thor/jane foster - Freeform, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve talks dirty, Third Wheels, minor tony stark/pepper potts - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Clint are the third wheels around the tower. Basketball, classic movies, plays, and late night workouts ensue. Turns out, they may have been dating the whole time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Wheel or 20 Dates

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm on a crusade to write porn for Clint with every Avenger and to make the ship make sense to me. If you check out my other stuff, you'll see I already write Clint/Bruce, Clint/Phil, and Clint/Tony. This is my first stab at Clint/Steve and it started with a short little dream where Steve Rogers liked to talk dirty during sex. If you're looking for a "Steve's a blushing virgin" story, this isn't it. I finally came up with a head canon that allowed me to put these two very good looking guys together in bed, and to do so, Steve needed experience. 
> 
> Trigger warning for PTSD flashbacks here and panic attacks being described. There's also some light talk about subs needing to be put into subspace as well. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

**_First Date_ **

“Isn’t it Natasha’s night to pick?” Steve asked, taking the popcorn out of the microwave and pulling it open. He loved how easy it was to make this way; no shaking a pan over the stove, just listening for the popping to stop and catching it before it burned. And the flavors, so many options to shake on or mix with butter. He still liked to melt his own butter … Tony had gotten him hooked on using garlic salt and jalapenos because who knew he liked spicy things? … but even that was done at the touch of a button in the magic oven of science, as Thor called it.

“She’s out-of-town.” Clint had a six pack of Michelob Amber Bock out on the end table between the massive leather chairs in the media room. “Thor’s still in London spending time with Jane. Jarvis, are Tony and Bruce on the way?”

“They are both currently in Dr. Banner’s lab. Shall I patch you through, Agent Barton?”

“Sure.” He picked up one of the many remotes laying around and starting firing up the system. Steve had yet to figure out why they needed seventeen remotes when he could just walk over and push the on button. “Hey, you guys coming? We’ve got popcorn and beer. With Nat gone, Tony’s next up to bat.”

“Oh, yeah, um, well, we’re in the middle of this …” Bruce started, but Tony talked over him.

“We’re doubling the co-efficient of the drag for the linear progression of the reversal engines to lessen the possibility of radiation leakage. Hey, we need a test subject. Send Cap down; he should be fine. But you might want to stay at least four floors away. Just in case you ever want to have kids or something.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Bruce interrupted. “He’s had five or six of those high energy green shakes and he’s wired. There’s no danger and we’re nowhere near ready for human testing. Just go on without us; Tony’s got his teeth into this and I think we’re on the edge of a breakthrough.”

Clint looked over at Steve. “Looks like it’s just us, Cap. You still game?”

“Popcorn’s made, beer’s cold, and I’d don’t have much else to do.” He watched Clint’s face for signs he was uncomfortable with the idea, but Clint just grinned and vaulted over the back of the chair, kicking his feet up on the ottoman.

“Excellent. Nat’s usually my social planner; when she’s gone I default to sitting around in my underwear and watching whatever I can find on ESPN. Watched curling once during the Olympics.” Clint wrinkled his nose at that and laughed. “So what’s your poison? Something new or old?”

“Actually, I’ve been going through the Oscar winners and AFI’s best of the year lists, working my way forward.” Sitting down the bowl between them, Steve took a beer and settled in. “Just finished 1958.”

“That sounds interesting. I bet you can see how viewing habits are changing.” Clint thought about it. “1959? Jarvis, run us a list of the nominated movies, will you?”

“Of course, sir. _Ben-Hur_ won 11 Oscars that year, including best picture, director, and actor. Other films include _Anatomy of a Murder, Room at the Top, Some like it Hot, The Diary of Anne Frank, North by Northwest_ …”

“Stop, Jarvis. Queue up _North by Northwest_ and _Some like it Hot_. You up for a double-feature?” Clint asked.

“Sounds good to me.” Steve put his feet up after he toed off his shoes.

“Then you are in for a treat. Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in drag plus classic Hitchcock crop duster scene.” Clint’s enthusiasm was contagious; Steve found himself grinning in return.

It had been a long time since Steve had watched movies and shared popcorn with just one other person. Mostly he was either alone or with a group; Clint, it turned out, was an excellent companion, knowledgeable about the films and willing to fill in the blanks. He liked to interact with the screen, but it wasn’t distracting, just funny comments and asides that made Steve laugh or think about the movie differently.

“What about _Ben-Hur_?” Steve asked when the credits finished on the excellent mystery with Cary Grant.

“Good movie, but it’s over 3 hours if I remember.” Clint stood and stretched, picking up the empty bottles as he headed into the kitchenette. “I’ll need a bathroom break if we’re going to mainstream that one. And more popcorn.”

“I’ll handle that,” Steve said, getting up with the bowl in hand. “Some Milk Duds would be good, don’t you think?”

“You going to break into Tony’s secret stash?” Clint’s eyebrows went up.

“He said we live here too, remember?” Steve popped open one of the movie marquees and pulled a yellow box of chocolate caramels from the stack. “You want something?”

“Junior Mints if he has them. Be right back.”

Steve grabbed the candy and tossed them into the chairs. The clock on the microwave said it was 11:27 p.m. as he put another bag of popcorn in.

**_Third Date_ **

Clint preferred late night hours in the gym, mostly for the solitude but also because he wasn’t sleeping all that well, not since the whole blue-eyed mind fuck that was Loki. So far, the aftereffects were under control; he was performing up to his past standards and he’d met all the benchmarks SHIELD had set for active duty. Still, working himself senseless until he fell exhausted in bed was better than any sleeping aid that would leave him feeling medicated and drowsy in the morning.

He’d already spent a solid couple hours on the range, working with the new rigs that Tony and the R & D guys had designed to stand up to the unusual uses he was putting his bow to lately. The Stark tech was, as usual, much better in terms of bells and whistles, but there was something to be said for the hardiness of a simpler piece of equipment. Less to break down, less weight to carry. Now he was running through katas, setting up his own obstacles and pushing his limits on time and skill.

“Thought I’d be the only here at this time of night.” Steve paused just inside the doorway, sweats and t-shirt on, hands wrapped and ready for the line of punching bags against the far wall. “Am I going to bother you if we share?”

Surprisingly, Clint was okay with it. Since their 1959 movie night, he’d felt more comfortable around Steve. Less the Captain and more just a guy who enjoyed Hitchcock … Steve had invited him to watch _Psycho_ with him when he got to 1960 … so Clint really didn’t mind. “Help yourself,” he said.

A companionable silence fell, the thuds of Steve’s hands providing a steady beat for Clint’s scrabbling hands and feet as he climbed, jumped, flipped, and ran, trying different ways and ideas with each pass. Sweat dripped off his nose and into his eyes, exhaustion catching up to him and finally making him stumble on a landing, turning the fall into a controlled roll, swinging up by using one of the bars. 

It hit him then, like always, completely unexpected, just a fragment of memory setting off electrical impulses to his brain that warned of danger. Crazy commands skittered down his spine – his breath froze to ice in his lungs, his fingers shook, his knees folded, and flashes of light danced around the edge of his eyes. He saw the world through a haze of blue for a second then he pulled himself upright and tried to wrestle himself back under control.

A thump, thump, thump permeated his stressed out brain like a heartbeat that called to him. He counted the sounds as he breathed, four in, four out, until his own heart matched pace, dropping out of the race it was running and back to a sedate walk. A full minute passed before he could raise his head, too afraid of what he’d see, but Steve still had his back to him, hands making the rhythm that had calmed him down as they hit the canvas.

“Think I’m calling it quits,” Clint said in as normal a tone as he could manage. “Wears me out just watching you.”

Steve grabbed the bag and stopped its swinging motion. His cotton tee was sticking to his back, hair wet with sweat and hanging in hanks over his forehead. “Yeah, me too. Just having a craving for some hot chocolate before I hit the sack. Want a cup? Not the instant stuff, the old fashioned melt chocolate into milk kind.”

He shouldn’t; he could still feel the nerves jumping under his skin, skittering along his arms. He should retreat to his room, lock the door and soak himself in a hot shower until he was bright red all over. But instead, he said, “Sounds good,” mostly to see Steve’s pleased smile.

“Kitchen it is,” he said, starting to unwind the tape from his hand. “Hot drink and then hot shower and I might even be able to sleep for a bit.”

“Trouble sleeping?” Clint asked.

“Slept enough under the ice, it seems,” Steve replied. “What’s the phrase … been there, done that?”

“Yeah, I know all about that.” And he did. More than Steve knew.

**_Fifth Date_ **

“Come on Pep, you know I can make it. I’ll have Happy run all the lights or I’ll take the suit. Yeah, if I fly I’ll be there in plenty of time.”

Steve looked up as Tony followed Pepper into the media room and that was all it took to get a read on the situation. Pepper was on the verge of getting angry, her fair skin flushed and her green eyes flashing at Tony who kept on arguing despite all the signs.

“I love you, you know that, but this is the playoffs!”

“Um, if you’ll excuse me.” Steve picked up his can of cola and decided the best course of action was a quick retreat. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“No, actually, you can help us out,” Pepper put a hand on his chest and Steve stopped, uncomfortable with the growing tension. “Do you like basketball? Tony’s got tickets for this afternoon’s game and he can’t make it. Why don’t you take them?”

“Pepper!” Tony protested.

“It’s our anniversary, Tony. Of the day you declared that you were going to put me front and center in your life. I’ve had reservations at this place for over three months, bought a new outfit and you are damn well taking me out tonight.” The way she said it brooked no more argument; Tony sputtered but even he knew when he was beat. “What’s more important to you? Our relationship or a basketball game?”

“Game? Which game are we talking about?” Clint strolled through the door.

“Knicks versus the Lakers,” Tony said the dejection evident in his voice.

With a long whistle, Clint shook his head. “Whoa. Playoffs? Those seats are hard to come by.”

“Exactly.” Tony eyed Pepper. “That’s why I’m offering them to you two. Take Cap here as part of the ‘education Steve in the modern world’ project. Tell Adam Sandler I said hello. He sits two seats down.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Pepper said. “I’m off to get ready. Suit and tie, Tony. 6:30 sharp. Don’t make me come find you.”

“Not a word,” Tony told them both, sotto voice, as Pepper left. “Not a single word.”

“Hey, if Pepper isn’t happy, none of us are happy. Do what you’ve got to do,” Clint slapped him on the back and Tony grimaced.

“Seriously, Tony, she’s a wonderful woman; you’re lucky to have her.” Steve leaned against the bar.

Tony’s face lightened. “Yes, yes she is and yes I am. You’re right. And, hey, if I hurry I can probably get that last set of calculations finished so Jarvis can fabricate the new repulsor stabilizers while we’re gone.” He hurried off to his lab.

“So, basketball?” Steve asked. “We played it in school, but I imagine the professionals are as different as football is.”

“Oh, Steve, my friend, you have sooooo much to learn.” Clint grinned.

They took a taxi to Madison Square Garden; Clint went with a Lakers hat and a pair of glasses while Steve borrowed a Knicks hat from Tony’s closet and his own set of shades. The game itself was a nail biter, and throughout, Clint explained the changes in rules and various player’s strengths and weaknesses. He was good at it, never talking down to Steve or adding too much detail, knowing when to stop and enjoy the action. They made it all the way until the last ten minutes before someone recognized them and their faces were on the big screen with the headline “Avengers take in a game!” scrolling underneath.  Used to famous people, the officials there got them out through a back tunnel that took them through a portion of the locker room. Kobe Bryant asked for an autograph and they spent twenty minutes signing for the players and coaches from both teams before they were able to slip away. Clint knew the streets around the arena and they ended up at a little delicatessen, a real old-fashioned type with slabs of fresh bread piled high with juicy meat, some as much as a whole pound. The sandwiches were good, Clint’s rueben dripping sauerkraut and Steve’s roast beef pink in the middle, the horseradish homemade. Since Clint paid for the sandwiches, Steve made them stop at a bakery he’d found and pick up something sweet. By the time they got back to the Tower, they were both laughing about the red, white and blue cannolis the lady had given them for free.

**_Seventh Date_ **

“You have a date?” Clint sputtered. “With who? Why didn’t I know?”

Natasha turned from her mirror, smoothing out her killer little black dress and tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “Don’t act so surprised. I do have a social life beyond you and SHIELD.”

“I know that, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t see this coming. You’ve been looking forward to seeing this play for forever. Giving up your favorite British actor? Must be serious.” Clint sprawled on her bed, feet crossed and his arms behind his head. He’d only see Tasha like this once before; whoever this was, she was in third degree lust.

“He’s a lawyer. We met at that fundraiser Tony had last month. You were in Greece, remember?” She slipped in an emerald dangle in one ear and then the other. “You’d like him. Very justice minded, but also handsome as sin.”

“I assume you’ve run all the background checks on him and they’re all clean? Do I need to give him the shovel speech?” Clint knew she was always careful. Given their past records, it made perfect sense.

“Yes and no. I can take care of myself.” She turned and handed him a small white envelope. “Here, and don’t play all illiterate on me. I know you like Shakespeare and will enjoy this production.”

“Seems like I’m benefitting from a lot of last minute change of plans lately.” Knicks and now third row center seats to the hottest ticket in town, the National Theatre of London’s latest New York export. Only showing for three weeks with one for the most in-demand actors, Clint knew fans had lined up for days to get a slim chance at one of the few available seats. “Tony and Pepper, and now you. Everyone’s pairing up but me.”

“You and Steve have been spending a lot of time together.” Natasha stepped into her black pumps, the red bottoms just a glimpse as she gathered up her shawl. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Nothing like being third wheels together, eh?” Clint rolled up and off the bed.

“He was asking about you while you were gone on that last mission.” With a quick glance, Natasha gave him one of her patented looks. “He thinks of you as friends. Heaven knows you could use a friend who’s vaguely normal.”

“What does that say about us when we consider Captain America normal?” Clint asked. His only answer was a huff in place of a laugh.

Steve was free and happy to go; he loved the theater and took advantage of Tony’s standing order with Jarvis to arrange the best seats in the house whenever they wanted. Along with the big marquee shows, Steve also frequented the smaller theaters, watching all sorts of avant guarde productions and improvisational comedy.  He even knew the play they went to see despite it being one of the least performed of all of Shakespeare’s works.

With its contemporary setting and costumes, bare stage and bloody scenes, the show was dark and dangerous, just like the play. The main actor sank his teeth into the vengeful Roman, and Clint was more than a little aroused by the power and grace of his words.  Thankful for the program booklet, Clint hid his reaction as best he could to not make Steve uncomfortable. The whole issue of sex really hadn’t come up; they’d laughed together at Tony Curtis in a dress, but Clint preferring men? Not something that popped up in casual conversation.

“I’m still not sure I understand his motivations,” Steve was saying as they exited the elevator on Clint’s floor. “Usually in Shakespeare’s plays the characters tell us what they’re thinking, big long soliloquies. But not in this one.”

“Maybe that’s the draw,” Clint argued. “That we don’t know what drives him to do what he does. A little mystery makes him more attractive.”

They stopped before Clint’s door. “Those jeans and the leather certainly didn’t hurt,” Steve said.

Clint froze, sure now that Steve had noticed and this was his way of asking. “Oh, well, I mean, I …”

Soft lips stopped Clint’s words, just the right amount of pressure. He didn’t react, too surprised to do more than recognize what was happening before Steve moved back. “Okay, I guess that was a miscalculation. I just assumed from what I heard that you would be interested.” He started to step away, but Clint grabbed his arm.

“No, I didn’t, I just … aw, hell, you surprised me, that’s all. I thought you were, you know, into women. Exclusively.” He managed to stumble through an explanation.

Steve’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he gave a rueful little smile. “I’m more person-by-person, I guess you’d say. I have a definite type, that’s for sure. Strong, smart, funny, sarcastic … sort of like you.”

“Wait, wait, are you saying you … not that I subscribe to the whole virgin thing ‘cause soldier, hello … but I sort of thought that you were, you know, a ‘got-to-be-in-love’ sort.” Clint was tongue-tied, sure he was getting in deeper and deeper by the second. Honestly, he hadn’t been thinking about Steve that way at all because he was straight; Clint had ignored the muscles and the chest and the absolutely magnificent ass. Yes. He’d ignored it all.

With a snort, Steve tilted his head. “Yeah, someone used to call that my cape of innocence. I don’t know why everyone thinks that; I certainly enjoy a good fuck as much as the next person.”

Eyes widened and Clint stared at Steve. “Oh, holy hell, you’re going to turn out to have a filthy mouth, aren’t you?”

“Why? Does it turn you on?” Steve shot back.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Clint leaned forward and kissed those perfectly not-innocent lips, swiping along the crack with his tongue until Steve parted them and Clint could get a taste of the burgers they’d shared after the play. Steve’s hands curled his biceps and, when the other man tried to take charge, Clint broke off and pushed away. “Hey, hey, I don’t put out on the first date,” he joked. “Got to keep some of the mystery.”

“This is our seventh date,” Steve objected.

“What? I’ll give you the basketball game. That was sort of a date, but seven?”

“Movie night, _Psycho_ , hot chocolate, coffee shop, shopping for shoes, the basketball game, playing Halo, and tonight. Seven.” Steve had obviously been counting. Well. That was interesting.

“Sorry, but it doesn’t count if I didn’t know it was a date. This is our first.” Clint smiled. “First base will have to do.” No need to rush into this. Clint could learn from his past mistakes, right?

**_Tenth Date_ **

“We’re going down!” Steve called over the comms, his voice as steady as he could make it while staring at the dark blue of the Hudson Bay that was rushing up to meet him. The quinnjet was plummeting towards the surface, controls not responding, Natasha passed out in her seat, blood on her forehead.

“Almost there,” Thor declared.

“Natasha’s unconscious.” Steve grabbed one of the life preservers and wrestled it on her limp form. “I’m going to get her out and into the water first.”

“We’ll take care of her,” Tony replied. “Get yourself out …”

The plane hit and bounced, hard, throwing Steve against the canopy hard enough to crack the safety glass and send shock waves of pain through his shoulder. Water began to rush in as he kicked the shattered glass out of the way and lifted Natasha through the opening, activating the inflation pressure value as he slipped her out. Water lapped at his boots, the heavy metal sinking quickly; he hoisted himself and pushed them both away from the wreckage, treading water as he waited. They were safe, he knew on a logical level, but his body felt the cold and the motion of the waves and suddenly his lungs were heavy with it, filled until there was no air left and the ice was closing around him …

“We’ve got you, Cap.” Clint’s voice, clear and strong. “Thor’s dropping down now. Let him take Nat, okay? Let go.”

Steve blinked at the familiar voice then Thor was scooping up Natasha, cradling her to his chest as Tony’s gauntleted hand caught the straps on the back of Steve’s uniform and lifted him up as well. The air was freezing on his skin as they flew, but he could see the battle wasn’t over yet, Victor Von Doom’s robots still terrorizing the city.

“Put me down in the middle of that cluster,” he shouted to Tony. “Drop me right in them.”

“You sure?” Tony asked.

“Sure.” He hid the way his hands were shaking and flashed Tony a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

By the time it was all over and they’d been through the seemingly endless debriefings, Steve had almost forgotten that moment of panic. Everyone was okay, Natasha awake and arguing to be let out of med bay, and the rest made it back to the Tower all in one piece. Pepper was waiting for Tony, calm façade slipping a little as he landed in his banged up armor. Jane threw her arms around Thor and hugged him tight before they disappeared down the elevator. Even the Hulk dropped to his knees and let Betty Ross run a hand down his muscular arm, her face filled with conflicting of emotions. She helped Bruce back to his room when he changed, linking her arm under his to give him strength.

“So,” Clint said, bumping his shoulder against Steve’s. “What are we up to? 1963? I’m in the mood for a comedy. How about _The Nutty Professor_ or _The Pink Panther_?”

It took a second for the words to register in Steve’s tired brain, but eventually he got there. He really just wanted to curl up in the dark and shake until his teeth rattled but he said instead, “Both sound good.”

They hit the locker room, showered and changed, Steve lingering under the almost scalding hot water long enough that Clint was already dressed when he got out.  Feeling slightly out of it, Steve followed Clint to the elevator, only realizing they were at Clint’s room as he saw the sectional sofa. When he balked, Clint sighed and just muscled him over, sitting him down and covering him up with the ugliest afghan Steve had ever seen.

“Natasha’s first effort at crochet,” Clint told him. “Don’t say a word. It’s warm as fuck, though.”

It was. Steve curled up under it and took the steaming cup of chocolate Clint handed him, just the same way Steve would make it. Before he started the movie, Clint lifted the edge of the afghan and made no bones about snuggling up to Steve, his body like a furnace that finally began to warm Steve’s chilled skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” Steve said.

 “Watching a movie and cuddling?” was Clint’s smart ass reply.

“Un-huh.” Steve let his head droop over onto Clint’s shoulder. “That’s it.”

**_Fourteenth Date_ **

“I understand that, Tony, but I’ve got business meetings in D.C. and out in L.A. I can’t be here every time you have a hangnail or bang yourself up playing superhero.” Pepper’s answer was sharp, her back turned as she poured a second glass of wine.

“I can’t be halfway around the world when shit happens,” Tony argued back. He tapped his chopsticks on the table, nervous energy running through his hands with nothing else to do. “And I’ve got projects that are more important than some factory in Beijing.”

Steve saw Clint wince and he agreed. That was the wrong answer. It was going to be a long night at this rate.                                                                                                                     

“I understand your work takes you to London,” Thor was saying as he strode across the room. “I merely said that I wished we could spend more time together.”

The food was late arriving. Everyone was tired from the earlier fight with the half-squid, half-man creatures; Steve could still smell the fishy scent despite scrubbing hard. This was supposed to be a team dinner, but tension was heavy in the room from the minute they’d dragged themselves down the stairs.

“This is a critical juncture for my theory; Dr. Jamison at Cambridge personally contacted me and I can’t turn him down. I need you to understand.” Jane stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. “What I want to do is to talk about this quietly, not shout at your back.”

“Awkward,” Clint whispered. The man had a wicked sense of humor.

“It’s a real soap opera around here,” Steve whispered back.

“That it is,” Natasha agreed. “Anyone know when the food’s going to get here?”

“I thought you were out for the evening with lawyer boyfriend?” Clint asked.

“Work. Can’t very well complain when I get called away all the time myself, right?” Natasha sounded less than thrilled, to be honest. Everyone seemed to be upset or angry or moody tonight.

“Food’s here!” Bruce called. Of all the couples, he and Betty seemed to be on the most even keel despite their rather rocky few weeks. The memory of past love had turned out to be more idyllic than the reality. Raised voices in the lab were becoming common.

“Seriously, Tony? No. Just no.” Pepper stormed across the room towards the door. “You can do what you want, but I have to take care of this company.”

“Damn it, I’m doing the best I can,” Tony practically shouted at her, his half-full drink in his hand.

A quick memory of his father yelling at his mother swam before him; Steve started to move forward to put himself between the two when Clint’s hand snagged his elbow. “Want to see something awesome?”

The question jolted him back from the anger that was growing inside of him and Steve unclenched his fingers when he realized he’d made them into fists. “Sure,” he said, exhaling slowly.

“Grab a six pack of beer and meet me at the elevator in five.”

They rode all the way up to the top observation floor, Clint clutching the heavy bag he’d brought with him. Then Clint bypassed a security door and led Steve up three more flights of stairs to an access platform and an external ladder. At the top was a collection of antennas and big square air conditioning units. They were higher than the place Selvig had built his portal machine; skirting the edge, they came out into a small concrete space with enough room to sit, even stretch out with a sleeping bag if they’d brought some. Before them was an unimpeded view of New York City, all the way from the lower boroughs to Ellis Island. Bridges crossed the rivers and the Statue of Liberty held her torch in the middle of the harbor.

“This is … spectacular.” It really was the best view in the entire city.

“Best thing, no cell service because of interference and no security cameras. We’re off the map up here.” Clint dragged a waterproof bag from between the metal units and pulled out two seat cushions. “I come up here to get away from all the drama.”

“I can see what you like about it.” As Steve sat down, Clint started pulling take out cartons from the bag.

“I’ve slept up here before.” Two then three then a total of six white squares appeared. “Wasn’t sure how hungry you were going to be so I grabbed what I could. Fortunately, everyone was watching Tony bury himself with Pepper, so I think my theft went unnoticed.”

Pad Thai, Mongolian beef, spicy kung pao shrimp, red curry, and jasmine fried rice were in the boxes; Steve took a set of chopsticks and grabbed the curry to start with. There were no plates so they ate straight from the containers, swapping them back and forth.

“That was uncomfortable,” Clint said, relaxing back against a short brick wall with his feet crossed at the ankles. “But then I grew up with worse; you know Tony wouldn’t hurt Pepper.”

“I know.” Steve understood what Clint was doing, sharing about his own past. “Bucky always said I was heroically stupid. Never could stop wading in to a fight even when it wasn’t mine.”

“Bucky, huh? So, you two, did you …” Clint wiggled his eyebrows as he chewed on a shrimp.

“Fondue?” Steve laughed at himself for even thinking that was what rich people called it. He’d never been able to talk about sex in front of Peggy. “Hell, no. Bucky was a tits and ass man. Loved a woman with curves and dark hair. We were like brothers growing up; he kept trying to set me up with the right woman. He completely supported my crush on Peggy.”

“So he didn’t know?” Clint asked.

“I never announced it, but he knew. You think I got picked on only because I was a little guy? Somehow, bullies targeted me out of the crowd.” Steve shrugged, the memories no longer having any power over him.

“And Peggy?”

“Never came up, probably never would have. Amazing woman, but she wasn’t the kind you talked dirty to.” Steve drank a long swallow and looked out over the city, a spike of loss as he remembered the woman he never even danced with. “Guess I’ll never really know.”

“I hear ya’,” Clint agreed. The lapsed into silence for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts.

“What about you and Phil?” Steve finally asked. He’d wondered about it, the way Clint mourned the agent who’d sacrificed for all of them.

“Phil? Coulson?” Clint sat down the pad thai and laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. Phil would have loved you asking that.” He needed a minute to pull himself back together. “Phil was as straight as they came; he had a girlfriend, a musician, but they weren’t doing too well when he died. Nah, Phil was married to his job. Man ate, lived, and breathed SHIELD.”

“But you were close.” That fact Steve knew for sure.

“Like family. He brought me in and supported me when I brought Nat in. We made a hell of a team and I trusted him to watch my back. Plus, he made Tony nervous which is a positive in my book.” Clint’s smile had a hint of pain behind it. “I miss him. Stupid idiot going up against Loki by himself. Just like him to do that.”

“From what I know, he sounded like a good man.” Steve watched the shadow clear from Clint’s eyes.

“The best,” Clint agreed.

The sun was dropping over the horizon, lights beginning to turn on around them. They finished off the shrimp first and Steve gave Clint the last of the curry while he worked on the beef.

“So how did little Stevie Rogers learn how to talk dirty? There’s got to be a story behind that,” Clint asked.

“Esther Adams. Showgirl extraordinaire and card sharp. Taught me how to deal from the bottom of the deck and shoot tequila. I learned all sorts of very colorful phrases from her.” There was a memory Steve liked, those late nights after a show with Esther and Franklin and Marie, veritable founts of knowledge about life and sex. They didn’t care that Steve wasn’t the most experienced of men or that he had a soft spot for an unattainable woman. They showed him that there was fun to be had without any strings attached. Not that emotions didn’t get involved; Frank was a very kind lover and Steve was grateful he’d been the first to introduce him to being on the bottom. “But it was really Dum Dum who liked it the most; he could come just from hearing me talk about what I was going to do.”

“Dugan? Timothy Dugan?” Clint did that thing with his eyes, the one that said Steve had shocked him yet again. “Really?”

“Dum Dum and Jacques. They were a regular item and only invited me to join them on occasion. Mostly when Dum Dum needed to be put down. Jacques didn’t like to do it when Tim was too far gone.” The first time Steve had seen Jacques take care of his lover, he’d almost stopped them, worried about how compliant and quiet the normally loud and boisterous red-head got. Later he learned exactly why it was so important after Jacques was wounded and Dum Dum almost went ballistic, too wound up to sleep or eat. Steve’s position as the leader of the group gave him more authority, so he learned exactly what his men needed.

“Whoa, whoa. Put him down, like into subspace? Are you telling me that Dugan was a sub, a submissive? And you’re a dom?” There was something in Clint’s face, and Steve knew that the idea intrigue him on a level that Clint might not want to admit. He’d seen that too, the way Dugan fought what he needed.

“I’m not sure what those terms mean, but if you’re asking if he followed my orders, then yes. I’m not into hurting others – never figured out how getting hurt makes some men aroused – but I can appreciate wanting to stop your brain and give control over to someone else.”  When Clint didn’t immediately answer, Steve waited a minute or two before continuing. “You need that sometimes?”

“I don’t know.” Clint stared out into the growing darkness. “Maybe. Never tried it, but it sounds … interesting.”

And there it was, a moment ripe with possibilities, the kind of situation where there could be more or it could slip by. Steve didn’t want to let it go.

“Come here.” He reached a hand out as Clint looked at him, emotion open about the conflict he was feeling. Wrapping a hand around Clint’s neck, Steve pulled him over and kissed him, long and hard, tasting the mix of spices and beer that was in Clint’s mouth.

In the glow of the city lights, the shadows lengthened across their faces, casting features in relief as Steve tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Flexing his fingers along curve of Clint’s spine down the back of his neck, Steve swiped his tongue into Clint’s mouth, running along his teeth and swallowing the moan that vibrated in the back of Clint’s throat. Steve had been afraid he’d forgotten how to do this, that the icy depths of the ocean had frozen him solid, but the warmth that was pooling in his cock put a rest to any worry. Clint’s skin was hot against Steve’s fingers, Clint’s hands creating friction as they dragged through Steve’s hair, urging him closer. The fire that kindled pushed back his doubts, and Steve welcomed it, glad to feel again and be alive this way with someone who wanted as much as he did … and someone who understood the fear of the cold.

They kissed until the night fell hard across the city, kissed while the temperature dropped around them, kissed until their bodies were entwined of their own accord. Pulsing heartbeats synced and hands stroked in time as they moved together, rubbing against each other, driving all other thoughts out, leaving nothing but need and desire. New to each other, they fumbled with buckles and zippers, Clint getting his hand along Steve’s hard length first. He measured with his fingers and pulled away to give himself enough space to free Steve’s cock and get a look.

“Um, yeah, proportionality, right? The serum enhanced everything?” Steve paused, watching for Clint’s reaction.

“Damn, Rogers,” Clint’s eyes glowed with mischief. “I wouldn’t say I’m a size queen, but, yeah, I just might be.”

Clint bent his head and licked across the top, a light flick of his tongue; Steve’s head dropped back at the sheer pleasure of the sensation. Wet tongue covered the length up and back as Clint’s hands cradled his balls; Steve didn’t try and stop the words that came out of his mouth, knowing how much Clint liked it.

“You like it big? Going to let me fuck your mouth, hold you so tight that I leave bruises while I come down your throat?”

“Oh, God, Steve,” Clint’s eyes turned dark and he whined, his breath drifting across Steve’s aching cock as he mouthed along the vein. “Yes. Do it.”

Lacing his fingers into Clint’s short hair, Steve waited until Clint drew in a breath and opened his mouth before Steve lifted his hips and slid into the moist heat. Clint’s moan vibrated along Steve’s dick, and he groaned himself before snapping up harder, bumping the back of Clint’s throat.

“Going to take it, aren’t you? Suck until your jaw aches?” With each question, he thrust again, mesmerized by the way Clint’s cheeks hollowed out as he sucked hard like he was trying to hold Steve inside. Clint managed the barest of nods with a deep throated groan before there was no way he could talk at all, head held still as Steve set a smart pace that felt so good.

The feel of Clint’s mouth on him was the best thing Steve had experienced since he woke up, far more satisfying than a quick solo hand job in the shower; he wanted to make this last, but he knew he wasn’t going to. Just watching his cock disappear past Clint’s lips, seeing the naked desire in Clint’s eyes, threw him too far over the edge to do more than snap his hips up a few times before his balls tightened, and he was coming, pressed deep into Clint’s throat. He could see Clint’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and that made Steve spurt some more, crying out as he finished.

Clint sat up, wiping the back of his hand along his mouth; deliberately, he licked his fingers clean while his eyes were locked on Steve’s. “Been a while?” he asked, all innocent tone with a satisfied smirk. Flopping back, Clint rubbed his hand along his still hard cock trapped in his jeans, a blatant invitation.

“A few years on ice puts a damper on your sex life,” Steve agreed, batting Clint’s hand away and replacing it with his own.  “I do vaguely remember how to give a blow job though. Suck hard and fast.”

He made short work of unzipping the jeans … Clint had on no underwear, so his cock jumped free easily … and he looked his fill, tracing the outline of the flushed head and leaking slit as he did. Clint was thick and flushed, curled slightly upward so the clear drops fell on the edge of his t-shirt. Wrapping his hand around the base and balls, Steve swallowed him down in one smooth move, going until his lips hit his fingers and his nose brushed wiry hair. On the way back up, he laid his tongue against the underside and pressed as he sucked hard.

“Oh fuck.” Clint bucked up into Steve’s mouth. “Oh, yes, that’s fucking amazing.”

Steve paused long enough to smile at Clint before he did it again and again. It didn’t take long to reduce Clint to a babble of please and fuck and holy hells that become nothing but moans just before he thrust up one last time, fingers burrowed into Steve’s hair, holding on for dear life as he practically blacked out beneath Steve’s mouth.

“Jesus, Steve, if anyone knew how good you were at that you’d be beating them off with a stick.” Clint was breathing in short gasps, sprawled out bonelessly on the concrete. Tucking himself back in his pants, Steve reached for the cartons that had been hastily pushed out of the way, finding two last pot stickers and some rice.

“Anything else left to eat?” Clint put himself back together and took the last beer. “I’m getting too old for this making out on the roof top shit. I need a soft bed and a nap in-between. What am I doing getting involved with a youngster who probably gets hard again in fifteen minutes?”

“More like a minute. Super-serum side effect. Everything heals really fast. Esther used to call me ever-ready. Among other things.” Steve gave Clint one of the pot stickers “Size queen? I guess I don’t have to look that one up at urban dictionary to know it means you like big dicks, huh?”

“Urban Dictionary. No wonder you’ve got modern dirty talk down.” Clint started stacking the empty cartons, looking mournfully into each one. “We ate it all.”

“Let’s go down and see if there’s anything left. I could use something sweet after all that spicy and salty.” Steve stood up and offered Clint a hand. “Then cheddar popcorn for tonight’s movies. 1964, right?”

“ _Goldfinger_ and _A Fistful of Dollars_. We can make some martinis, shaken not stirred, while we watch the best James Bond movie ever. Seriously, the girl is named Pussy Galore.” Clint carried the bag with the trash as they made their way back around.

“Pussy Galore.” Steve had to say it. “And you think I talk dirty. So is there a male counterpart, Dick Plentiful?”

Clint’s laughter echoed in the stairwell as they headed for the elevators. “Penis Abundant? No, no, I’ve got it … Cock Copious!”

**_Seventeenth Date_ **

Slow and easy, Clint woke up, climbing out of unconsciousness. First, he was aware of the warmth and lethargy that held him down. Then, part by part, he became cognizant of his body, legs curled up, hand under his cheek and tucked under the pillow, his cock half-aroused against the sheets. A heavy weight across his side and down his chest, hairy leg tucked between his, top of the thigh just resting against the bottom of his balls, heated even breaths puffing against the back of his neck. Safe, secure, held tight, the memories rose to the surface.

_“I know this place,” he said to Steve as the quinnjet circled the HYDRA base. “There’s an escape hatch on the top of the mountain and two entrances to the south and southwest. I’ll map them for you.”_

_That was all he had to say and Steve instinctively knew as the first tendrils of panic hit Clint._

_“All right, here’s the plan. We’ll drive them out the southwest exit; Thor, you collapse this tunnel, Natasha and I will take the strike force in the main one, and SHIELD  can be waiting to collect the scientists as they come out the other. Tony, you get Clint to the escape hatch; odds are that’s the way Viper will come out. You two make sure she doesn’t get away with the data. And Hulk? When we’re done, you bring the whole damn mountain down so no one can use that device ever again.”_

A deep breath and Clint opened his eyes, blinking away sleep. Big bed, a framed print of New York City on the wall, a simple dresser – not his own room then. Steve shifted behind him, leg rubbing as he moved, and Clint bit his lower lip to keep the little moan from escaping as his cock hardened even more at the sensation. Blankets were tucked all around them, keeping the heat their naked bodies generated from escaping.

_The ground jumped beneath his feet, a muffled thump, and Clint was running for the hatch, turning the metal circle and lifting the door up on its hinges. Smoke billowed out, obscuring the ladder inside; a rancid odor of burning chemicals reached them._

_“Something’s wrong. I’m going in.” Clint went to for the first rung, but Tony grabbed his arm._

_“You’ll be flying blind in there! Trust Cap, he’ll get all of them out.”_

_“You don’t understand; I can find them.” Clint jerked free. “This is place where I brought Loki and Selvig. I know it like the back of my hand.”_

_Tony didn’t try to stop him as swung down and started climbing._

“How are you feeling?” Steve buried his nose in Clint’s hair and murmured in his ear.

“Surprisingly good, all things considered,” Clint answered truthfully. “And hot. What did you do, pile every blanket you had on the bed?”

“You were shivering and your temperature was below normal. When the shower didn’t work, body heat seemed the best option.” No mistaking, Steve was slowly circling his hips, rubbing that very impressive and very aroused dick along the curve of Clint’s ass.

“Well, I’m warm now. And more than a little interested in waking up even more.”  He reached for Steve’s hand and slid it down his chest to where his own cock was looking for attention.

_Every turn brought another memory of what he’d done, the decisions made, the lives lost. Only one thing kept Clint going until they were out the back entrance and that was Steve on his left, carrying a wounded scientist who’d been held hostage. Natasha had the man’s children and was guiding his wife as they all followed Clint to safety. There were more implosions, and then Steve was arguing that debriefing could wait until tomorrow, ushering Clint onto the jet where a sympathetic Natasha had them in the air before Clint broke down, shaking until he felt like his body was going to shatter._

“How much do you remember about last night?” Steve asked. As much as Clint wanted to plow ahead and not deal with it all, he knew Steve wouldn’t let him.

“You put me down. I was out-of-control and you calmed me. I begged you to fuck me, but you wouldn’t.” He turned his head to see Steve, to let him know exactly what he felt. “That was the right call. I wasn’t in a good space to make that decision. Now, however, I am. And for future reference, we need figure out how that’s going to work next time you need to do it again ‘cause I’ll probably beg then too.”

“A safe word, that’s what it’s called.” Steve’s hand circled Clint and teased. “We can do that.”

Steve pushed him over onto his chest with his weight, lying on top of him; opening the side drawer, Steve took out a bottle of lube and a condom before he pushed the blankets down to their waists and straddled Clint, knees on either side of his hips. Hot and heavy, Steve’s cock lay against Clint’s back and he bucked his hips up in anticipation.

“You were a boy scout, weren’t you? Always prepared?” Clint turned his head to the side and watched Steve.

“Amazing what you can buy on the internet.” His nose nuzzled Clint’s ear. “I saw all these sex toys. Gave me ideas.”

“Turning you lose on the web might not be a good idea.” Everyone was wrong about Steve and Clint was damn happy that he’d gotten to see this side of the man. “We can talk about that later, after you fuck me.” He wiggled his ass in encouragement.

_He was on his knees, carpet scraping his skin, frozen all the way to his bones, face pressed against blue pants. He needed the world to stop spinning, the memories to quit flowing, the panic flashing like a strobe light behind his eyes to go dark. Loki’s voice echoed in his head, telling him he was nothing, that he’s a liability, compromised._

_Just ten points of heat keep him from spinning away, fingers tangled in his hair and stroking along the curve of his jaw. A steady heartbeat against his cheek that matched the strokes, one, two, three, four, breathe in, breathe out, commanding voice telling him he was good and special and worth it all.  He held onto that line, Steve’s solid presence; slowly, the panic receded and he fell into a languid pool of calm where he floated as hands lifted him and tucked him safely into strong arms._

“Breathe with me,” Steve said as Clint clenched around his slick fingers. “Been a while, huh?”

With a huff of a laugh, Clint exhaled and focused on the ache in his cock rather than the burn of Steve stretching him. “Not as long as you.”

“Smart ass.” Steve swatted Clint’s ass playfully. The jolt rocketed into Clint’s brain and he let out a porno quality groan then hung his head to hide his reaction. “Interesting. We’ll have to explore that next time, shall we?”

“Oh, God,” Clint pushed back to meet Steve’s fingers as he thrust. “You really ARE going to kill me.”

“Nah, just going to spank you.”

Clint couldn’t respond; Steve’s fingers found the right spot and pleasure sparked up his spine and suddenly he wanted. Lifting his ass higher in the air, Clint dropped his head on the bed and spread his legs, uncaring what he looked like. “More. Give me more.”

He’d forgotten just how good this felt, too messed up with Loki’s manipulations to listen to his body instead of his head. Sex had become rote, something he did to relieve himself, usually alone with his hand or fingers in the most perfunctory manner. There’d been one or two encounters with strangers, careful and limited, but he’d gotten next to nothing from it. But Steve was different; he combined comfort with an edge of ache, upright good guy with foul mouthed sex god, and he made Clint’s cock jump up and demand things he hadn’t even known he wanted.

“Ready?” Steve took Clint’s muffled moan as agreement and pulled his three fingers out, leaving Clint empty for a few seconds as he unrolled the condom and slicked it up. Then he was pushing in and Clint closed his eyes to savor the stretch as Steve filled him in slow increments. “Tight and so good,” Steve breathed along Clint’s back, stopping to kiss him before sliding in a little more.

“Fuck.” Clint exhaled the word; sweat dripped off his nose, Steve’s hands gripped his hips tight, and the burn was just this edge of pain … and Clint loved every second of it. “Fuck me. I mean it, Steve. Don’t hold back.”

“Going to fill you up, split you in two.” Steve’s own breathing was ragged as he slipped out and pushed back in. “Pound you until you beg for more.”

“Yes,” Clint agreed as the thrust rocked him forward. “Do it.”

Steve insisted on taking his time, working Clint up by varying his strokes, slow and easy then snapped hips plowing in and making Clint grunt. No rhythm, no rhyme to when or why, just relentless slams into Clint’s prostate, the pulses overwhelming his brain and putting his dick firmly in control of his mouth and body. He begged, phrases he’d never imagined coming from his lips as he stroked himself to relieve the throbbing ache.

“You should see yourself.” Steve’s words fell along Clint’s back and rolled up his spine. “Spread open around me, clenching so tight around my cock, so eager to part and let me back in. Gorgeous.”

That was it; Clint was at the end of his rope. “Please, please, please, Steve. I need to come. Let me come.”

With a growl, Steve sat back on his knees and increased his thrusts until skin was slapping against skin. Clint jerked his hips back to meet Steve, wringing the tension tighter and tighter until all it took was a touch of Steve’s hand before he went off, coming in long spurts and gasps. The climax drove him back over into that space where pleasure wrapped around him like a blanket, cuddling him and keeping him safe. He felt Steve finish with a groan and roll off to the side, the bed dipping beneath his weight. But Clint couldn’t move, far too sated and content to care that his ass was still in the air.

“You alive over there?” Steve asked.

“Mmmrph,” Clint responded.

“Going to move anytime soon?” Steve turned and looked at him.

“Wet spot. Fucked out. ‘M good.” He managed a little wiggle. “Give me five, I’ll be ready to go again.”

“Right, we have to explore the whole spanking thing,” Steve teased.  Clint felt his face redden then Steve’s face grew serious. “Do you want to keep doing this, though?”

“Yes. All of it. Movies and games and plays and hot chocolate. We can be friends who are teammates who are fucking each other. How’s that sound?” Clint refused to call this a relationship. He sucked at relationships. A friendship he could manage.

“I can do that,” Steve agreed.

**_Twentieth Date_ **

“None of those romantic comedies tonight. I vote for something with lots of explosions and manly fighting. A _Die Hard_ marathon, maybe.” Tony took his favorite seat and folded one leg under him as he sat the whiskey bottle and tumbler down on the arm table. Everyone knew that Pepper had moved out to the house in Malibu to think about their relationship.

“Aye, this is a night for bonding over shared troubles. I too vote for a tale of adventure and battle.” Thor had his favorite bowl already filled with popcorn; his oversized sweats looked slept in and a day old. Jane had left yesterday for London without a solution to their argument.

“How about the _Lord of the Rings_? Steve asked the other day why you call Clint Legolas,” Bruce offered. He had a scraggly beard started, dark circles under his eyes; he hadn’t been sleeping well since Betty moved to a hotel down the street.

“The extended editions?” Natasha curled up in her own chair. “What are we talking, ten hours?”

“Depends upon if we include all three _Hobbit_ movies,” Tony said.

“Only two are out,” Bruce reminded him.

“Peter’s a friend. I’ve got an early cut of the third if you want to watch. The Battle of Five Armies is supposed to kick ass.” Tony gave them all a shadow of his usual shit-eating grin.

“I have not seen these films, but Clint speaks highly of them. Steven, what do you vote?” Thor looked over to the doorway where Steve stood keeping an eye down the hallway. “You are dressed formally. Did I miss a memorandum about a new dress code?”

“Yeah, Cap, what’s up with the suit and tie? You going out?” Tony sat up as soon as he said it. “You are, aren’t you! You have a date.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but, yes, I have plans for the evening.” He thoroughly enjoyed the look on Tony’s face, surprise mixed with avid interest. “I’ve got tickets for Branagh’s production of the Scottish play.”

“How did you score those?” Natasha asked. “Even my contact couldn’t get any of them. Damn short runs.”

Steve only smiled at her; it was his secret that he was becoming known in theater circles. After all, he was in the business himself at one point.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Thor asked. “I did not know you were seeing anyone.”

“Yeah, where’d you meet her? You never go anywhere,” Tony protested. “At the art museum? Oh, wait, at the Knicks game! One of the Laker girls! You dog.”

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Clint stepped out and Steve lost the thread of the conversation. Grey dress pants hugged Clint’s legs and cupped his ass; grey vest, smart tie loose at his neck and a supple soft matching leather jacket finished off the look. His hair was spiky and, damn it, he’d put a little bit of black eyeliner around his blue-grey eyes. Steve never should have told Clint that made him horny.

“Steve? Earth to Steve!” Tony was shouting, but Steve ignored him, walking to meet Clint.

“You look good,” he said.

Clint smirked. “Serious suit there, Cap. My kudos to you, Jarvis. Those pants are tight enough.”

“Thank you sir. I used Captain Roger’s uniform measurements.”

“Curtain goes up at 7; we should head out.” Steve slipped his hand under Clint’s arm and turned him around.

“Wait! What? Steve and CLINT? Captain America is gay?” Tony’s voice followed them back to the elevator.

“Is there an issue with that?” Thor asked. “On Midgard, warriors often find their mates amongst themselves.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just … how the hell did I miss that?” Tony demanded as the elevator slid open.

“Where have you been, Tony? That’s been going on for months,” Natasha’s voice was the last thing they heard before the door shut.

“Told you she was onto us,” Clint said. “Did you talk your friend into getting us backstage? I really want to meet Alex Kingston.”

“Turns out she’s a fan; she’s coming to dinner with us afterwards.”

Funny how things worked out, Steve thought. Sometimes being the third wheel wasn’t all that bad. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, that's Coriolanus with Tom Hiddleston from the National Theatre. I'm bummed we never get those here in the US, so I made up the national tour. Plus, it's funny, right? And MacBeth was here, but it's run is long over and I didn't get to see that one either. But the movies I mentioned are all real, as is Pussy Galore. No Cock Copious though. ;D


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